I wake up with my old 'lower back and hip' aches. I can't believe that this expensive bed is treating me worse than the thin mattress on the fold out couch. Or is it just a coincidence?

There is also something about sleeping in a cavernous room that is disconcerting, too. We don't have the dresser and wardrobe and big TV in it. The little TV I used to test the cable looks like it is a mile away.

One hopes I'll adjust to everything. I'm sure I will. It's just strange to wake up aching and feeling out of sorts in an expensive bed in an expensive remodel. And we only have a few clothes in there because the closet isn't finished (and the big furniture isn't moved) so that makes us feel even more lost, wandering about, trying to get dressed all over the house.

I work out and when I'm through with the recumbent bike and the stretches and crunks and a lower back exercise, I believe it feels better. But the tightness creeps back. Don't get me wrong...it isn't excruciating or anything. In fact, sitting in my chair in front of my computer, it's just the faintest discomfort. Odd. I had this problem one time when I drove my dad to Dallas in my car. Maybe it is tension and unfamiliar stuff. Just like my digestion rebels when I travel. Or something.

The contractor comes by and his visit (feigning his hearing problem when we say we don't like something, saying 'he wishes we hadn't chosen a dark-colored grout' to try to pin tile problems on us) is enough to tense us up. Finally we settle on a negotiated price and I'm glad he won't he coming by anymore. They send the eighteen-year-old incompetent tile guy by one more time. He says the stuff flaking off in the shower is "caulk which you don't really need" and "we are having a lot of it do this because of the damp weather." It's a shower for god's sake! Um, yes, it will be damp! I make him clean up the rest of the cault that is flaking off and dismiss him.

In any case, most of my day is spent thinking "my aching back." I have to go get my dad out in suburbia and then drive him out there later to get his van. I have to go pick him up and drive through suburbia for our evening event. Which is a, to me, pleasant salad, cheese fondue and dessert with my friend who is helping organize our France events. FFP is bored with the proceedings and shows it. It makes me wonder if the trip to France will entertain him. But I'm drinking enough that my back doesn't hurt and I don't care but not so much that I actually feel the alcohol. Perfect.

So at 11PM I've taken my dad home, gotten gas in my car and gotten home. Back feels fine. Now, let's see what another night in the new expensive bed will do.

 

 

 

 

 

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Except for the little back twinge and the tension about all the little things going on, except for things which don't really matter, I feel fine.